Guilliman, Once Again, Another Cowardly Son of a Bitch

918.M30.

Shadow of the Throne.

Nimrod leaned back against The Throne, studying the figure who walked into the primarch's office.

White armor encased his body, with blue painted over his helm, shoulders, and other areas.

Three medical scanners flickered over his left eye, and his helmet was connected to a respirator.

A skull was embedded in his chest, and two vials of medicine, one red and one green, sat within his straps.

"Ivos Jovan greets Lord Nimrod." Ivos pressed a blue-gloved hand to his chest and bowed.

His High Gothic was impeccable, flawless even by the standards of Terra's nobility.

Nimrod looked at the future legendary medical officer, and memories of him naturally surfaced in his mind.

Ivos was renowned throughout the Hive City world of Agathon, where his almost miraculous medical skills and superb surgical technique had earned him the highest praise from the local elites.

But he had been investigated for involvement in forbidden medicine.

A marshal of the Solar Auxilia had offered him a chance at a pardon, and he joined the army, saving countless lives on the battlefield.

His automated operating table was a major asset on the battlefield, capable of performing timely surgery on wounded soldiers in a short span of time.

He was also a deadly warrior in battle. His Phase Scalpel could disintegrate the tissue inside an enemy's body without damaging flesh and skin.

Every cut was as precise as his scalpel, except it was used to kill rather than save.

Hmm, so the Solar Auxilia marshal who saved him was Barton Drake?

Because Barton pledged himself to me, Malcador grew suspicious of him, and he failed to become a marshal.

Even so, he still recommended a talent like Ivos to me.

Nimrod knew that Ivos could be called the finest medical officer